


Study Snacks

by BBASLML



Series: Studying in the House of Lamentation [1]
Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: Comedy, Consent, Demon/Human Relationships, F/M, Food, Orgasm, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:28:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23836906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BBASLML/pseuds/BBASLML
Summary: A break for a study snack turns into a steamy affair."I was right," he says, pulling away from you to speak. "In fact, you're even more delicious than you look."
Relationships: Beelzebub/Main Character (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)
Series: Studying in the House of Lamentation [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1727695
Comments: 28
Kudos: 639





	Study Snacks

It's Saturday, and you've got a mountain of homework to complete before the new week begins at RAD. But between the antics of the demon brothers living with you in the House of Lamentations, and the howling wind outside, you just can't seem to focus on the tasks at hand. 

The stormy weather hasn't let up all day. You let the textbook you've been poring over fall shut as it clatters off the side of your bed, your hands floating over your head as you let out a long sigh. _This just won't work,_ you think to yourself. In the human world, it was easy enough to break up studying on a day like this to make it bearable. A jigsaw puzzle with your mother, a video game with your friends online, some quality baking to indulge the senses. 

"I wonder ..." you muse out loud. After a moment, you pull yourself up from the bed and find a pair of slippers, tugging an oversized hoody over the tank top you've been lounging in all day. The air in the hallways of the House of Lamentations is as cold as you imagine it to be outside. A breeze around your ankles sends you shivering as you scurry to the kitchen, closing the door behind you. 

Aside from a few dirty dishes in the sink, there's no sign of life in the kitchen. You start peeking into cupboards and searching shelves, keen to see what you'll have available to work with. Eventually, you find all the ingredients to make a cake, but can't find a damn cake tin. You bet Luke has been making good use of them over in the House of Purgatory, but there's no way you're going to retrieve them from the other house in this weather. You start returning the ingredients, defeated. 

That's when you spot the chilis on Mammon's shelf in the fridge. Short and fat and dark green. Could it be? 

A quick search yields other ingredients you need to hatch a Plan B. You pull out your D.D.D. and open your chat with Mammon. 

_You: Hey Mammon, would you mind if I used the jalapenos you've got in the fridge to make jalapeno poppers? I need a study snack._

You click send, then start typing again. 

_You: I promise to share with you._

You add a begging devil-sticker with wide, hopeful eyes and click send. He replies almost immediately.

_Mammon: Normally I'd say no. But since you asked so nicely ..._

_You: Thank you! Have I mentioned you're great?_

_Mammon: You could stand to mention it more. Leave it to THE Mammon, human. You can use my jalapenos anytime._

_Mammon: As long as you pay me back, of course!_

You chuckle as you read his replies and drop your D.D.D. on the benchtop to fish out the ingredients. You make quick work of the chilis, the filling and the coating. There are twelve chilis all up. Soon you're ready to deep fry. You relish in the sizzle of the poppers dropping into the hot oil, drumming your nails on the counter top while you wait for them to cook. 

With just a couple of minutes to spare, you pour marinara sauce into a dipping bowl, with a sprinkle of freshly chopped basil on top. The timer goes off and just as you fish out the final product, the kitchen door swings open. 

"Beel!" you say, surprised. 

His tall, muscular figure takes up most of the doorway and he hunches his shoulders as he leans on the doorframe. You notice the way his shirt clings to his chiselled body, through the front of his bomber jacket. His shirt is half-tucked into his casual jeans, completing the carelessly handsome look. A glowing smile stretches across his face as he greets you. You can't help but blush a little bit from the way he meets your eyes. He has been having that affect on you since he made a pact with you, while you were sharing his room. This isn't the first time you have wondered if something more might have happened if you'd continued sleeping in Beel's room a little longer. 

"I was hungry, so I came to find a snack. Looks like I found you, too." His eyes move from your face to the fresh plate of jalapeno poppers. "What's this?" he asks, beaming. 

Beel's presence in the kitchen is inevitable, you know that. And of course he likes jalapeno poppers—who wouldn't?! 

"Well, I needed a study snack, too," you say. "But I can't eat all of these by myself." 

Beel makes a sound that is equal parts excitement and approval. He steps into the kitchen and lets the door swing shut behind him. His face is alight with joy and you feel a blush rise to your cheeks at his gusto. 

"Would you like to eat these with me?" you offer, plucking one of the jalapeno poppers from the plate and swirling it slowly through the sauce. 

When you lift it from the sauce bowl, you watch the excess marinara drip off the end. As you raise it to your lips, you meet Beel's eyes and realise the way he's staring at you, totally transfixed. The attention makes you blush deeper. You feel your mouth turn up at the corners, unable to resist a smirk. You open your mouth perhaps a little wider than necessary and allow the tip of the jalapeno popper to rest on your tongue for a split second before you let your lips close over it and your teeth sink in. 

You scrunch up your face in response to the searing heat of the filling, opening your mouth to suck air in and out to try and cool it. 'Aah,' you moan with your mouth full. How foolish. 

When you open your eyes, there's a look of shock on Beel's face and you see him flush red. His Adam's apple bobs up and down as he swallows a lump in his throat. His eyes are wide as you chew, the hot juicy stuffing coating your tongue. It's still too hot and it burns, but with the way Beel is watching, you ignore the pain for the sake of show. You suck the grease from your thumb and forefinger, heart skipping a beat as Beel takes a step forward. When he reaches a hand out towards your face, you gasp at the unexpected contact. His thumb caresses your skin, running from one side of your chin up to the corner of your mouth. When he pulls his hand away, you see the trickle of sauce he's collected as he licks it off his own skin. For a moment, you stare across the short space between each other in silence, the blood rushing through your veins so fast you can hear it whooshing in your ears. Beel lets his mouth hang open for a moment as he stares at you, his thumb still between his lips. 

"Will you really share your study snack with me?" 

You are surprised by the softness in his voice, the way he leans in to ask. His lips remain parted as he waits for your answer. You take another jalapeno popper between your thumb and forefinger and dip it into the sauce. Without thinking, you raise it to Beel's lips. He opens his mouth willingly as you rest the end of the popper on his tongue. When he closes his mouth, his lips caress your fingertips and you feel his tongue dart out to taste the residual sauce before you pull your hand away. He doesn't flinch at the heat. 

Beel seems incredibly pleased by this turn of events, though his cheeks have gone scarlet. You are sure yours have too. He plucks a jalapeno popper from the plate and returns the favour, pressing the tip against your tongue before you bit into it. You gently grab his hand to stop him from pulling away from your face. With a little suck, you draw his index finger into your mouth and roll your tongue over the end. 

Beel lets out another sound, this time more flustered—nervous, but not displeased. He wobbles slightly, his free hand finding your hip as he steadies himself. The way he says your name sends a shiver through you. With his finger still resting in your mouth, he bows his head shyly, glancing up at you through the locks of red hair that fall over his face. His gaze drifts to the plate of jalapeno poppers on the counter top, a tentative smile across his face before his eyes find yours again. 

"Would you like to finish eating these in my room?" Beel asks. 

You let his finger slide from your mouth, nodding your head once in agreement before you release his hand. He takes the little bowl of sauce and you take the plate of jalapenos. With a hand cupping your elbow, he leads you out of the kitchen and down the hallways of the House of Lamentation to his room. When he closes the door behind you, you hear the lock click over and you swear you must be red up to the tips of your ears for how devious it all is. 

You take in the familiar room—the two beds, the couch. It has only been a week since you moved back into your own room. There is a different energy to the air this time, though you welcome the possibility of your daydreams coming true. 

Before you set the plate down, he plucks up another jalapeno popper and feeds it to you, dragging you down to sit with him on the couch. You return the favour, and within a couple of minutes, the greasy, cheesy snacks are all gone. But you and Beel are still sitting close together, hands brushing lips as you lick the residue from each others fingers. 

"Those were really good, but I'm still hungry," Beel says, closing his eyes. A forlorn expression passes over his features before he opens his eyes again. When he says your name this time, you feel the unmistakable tension between your legs and a fire in your belly that has nothing to do with the jalapeno poppers. "You look delicious," he says. 

"Do I?" you ask, scooting closer to him. His finger leaves your mouth as he moves his hand to cup the side of your face. Both of your hands slide over the front of his shirt, relishing in the sensation of his firm muscles beneath your palms. 

"Would you mind if I gave you a taste, just to check?" His voice is low and husky, his head dipping as he gives a pleading look. 

You can't hide your smirk. You tilt your face up to his. "I don't mind." 

A moment later, Beel's lips are against your and his eyes close. You part your lips to feel his tongue explore your mouth. You can taste the greasy, spicy, cheesiness of the study snack mixing with whatever he'd eaten earlier. He doesn't come across so shy now, a strong arm snaking around your waist as you kiss. Those arms pull you closer and you're happy to oblige, your pelvis puckering against his as he pulls you into his lap. 

He has an erection. You can feel it through your slacks. That knowledge makes your heart flutter in your chest. 

When his lips leave yours, he traces kisses along your cheek to your ear. "Is this alright?" he asks, his tongue flickering against your earlobe. Both of his hands move to your hips and you can feel his fingertips pressing in. This isn't the type of hunger he's used to and you both know it. 

"Yes, this is good," you whisper back to him, letting your teeth graze his neck. 

A shudder wracks through his body, his forehead resting against your shoulder for a moment. His grip on your hips tighten. You find his lips again with yours, fingers raking through his scruffy red hair. One of his hands reaches for the back of your head. He twists your hair around his fingers with a gentle, but very deliberate tug. 

"I was right," he says, pulling away from you to speak. "In fact, you're even more delicious than you look." 

You hear yourself emit a small laugh. "You've only tasted a little bit of me, though. I think you should taste me some more." 

"Oh?" Beel raises an eyebrow, leaning back from you enough to look you up and down. "Would that please you?" 

A breath catches in your throat. You remember the power you wield over Beel because of the pact. Your body is pounding with desire, but your next words are measured. "Beel, I don't want to make you do ... _things_ with me, just because of our pact." 

You stand and try to take a step back from him. He follows you to your feet, catching you by both arms to draw you back in close. 

"What if I _want_ you to make me do things?" 

You're taken aback by his suggestion. "Beel, do you mean that?" 

His gaze finds the floor, and he nods, the shyness returning to his demeanour. 

"Okay, but ... how much do you want me to make you ... do?" 

You watch him bite his bottom lip. A smile creases the corners of his mouth. You want to lean in and kiss him so much, but you make yourself wait for his answer. Finally, his eyes move from the floor back to yours and he breathes the word, "Everything." 

It takes you a moment to realise he actually said it—you're not imagining it. His hands are still around your forearms. You can feel his warmth radiating from his body. The daydreams you've been having are about to come to fruition, you realise. You tilt your head to one side, scanning the front of his body with your eyes: the tight fit of his shirt over his muscular figure, the bulge of his erection through his pants. Your body is hungry for his. 

"Take your jacket off," you hear yourself say. "Now." 

He releases your arms and shrugs the jacket away, tossing it over the arm of the couch. His biceps look ready to tear the sleeves of his cotton t-shirt, the v of the neckline allowing his collarbone to peek out from behind the material. 

"Unzip my hoodie," you say next, eager to bring him back into your space. 

He obliges, one hand on your hip while the other tugs down the zipper. His eyes widen in surprise when he sees just your tank top underneath. His hands smooth over the skin of your shoulders as he pulls the hoody off you and tosses it aside. 

"Are you cold?" he asks. You've got goosebumps, but you can't tell if it's from excitement or from the cold. 

"You'll keep me warm," you say, stepping in closer. 

You feel your nipples harden, poking through the material of your tank top as you bring him in for a kiss. His hands start to explore you, sliding up your arms, down your sides, back up again to cup your breasts. An involuntary moan escapes you as he rolls his thumb over one of your nipples, pressing through the fabric of your tank top. 

"Okay?" he checks. 

"Take off your shirt." 

He doesn't hesitate to obey. The sight of his bare chest and abdomen is glorious. Beel takes one of your hands and brings it up to his shoulder, tugging you in for another kiss as his guides your hand over his skin. His tongue dances with yours as your feel your way down his chest, along his abdomen to hook your fingers into the waistband of his jeans. He releases a brief moan into your mouth. His hand feels hot over yours. 

"Touch me," you whisper in his ear. 

You guide his hand into your slacks. He finds his way around the edges of your panties and slides two fingers between your legs. 

"Oh—!" he gasps, surprised by how wet you are already. 

He doesn't need you to show him what to do with his fingers. Your hips buckle as he slides them further in and then draws them out along your clit. 

You moan into his chest. "Taste me." 

He brings his fingers up to his mouth immediately. You watch his tongue dance over them, licking your juices. "Mmm. It's so sweet." 

When he finds your mouth with his again, you can taste yourself on his lips. His hands find their way back into your slacks to finger you again. This time, he's not as gentle. Your body responds in kind. You grab at a handful of his hair, letting your nails graze at his bare skin. He uses his free hand to slip the straps of your tank top off your shoulders and yank the front of the material down to reveal your breasts. Your chest heaves in excitement, his fingers moving circles over your clit as he sucks one of your nipples into his mouth. His teeth graze along your skin and you feel electrified. 

Within minutes, you feel yourself about to come. Your hips buckle against his hand as he pushes you over the edge. As you tilt your head back in ecstasy and cry out, he stops you from covering your mouth. As you orgasm, his free hand grabs your arse and he hoists you up so that your legs are on either side of his hips. In two steps, he has you on his bed, his fingers continuing to stroke between your legs as you moan and squirm with pleasure until you can't take it. 

"Beel, fuck me!" you cry, gathering fistfuls of his bedsheets between your fingers. 

It only takes a moment for him to pull your slacks and panties away and throw them onto the floor. His hands are suddenly clumsy with excitement as he unbuttons the front of his jeans and lets his erection jump free. It's bigger than you anticipate and your mind reels with elation as he kneels between your thighs at the edge of his bed. 

He starts with one of your legs over his shoulder, pressing his cock into you. It hurts so good that you almost miss the way he blushes when you gasp. He holds you by the leg, his hand squeezing your thigh just before the bend of your knee as he thrusts into you over and over. 

"Ahh ... Aaahhh ..." he moans as he moves into you. "You feel ... so ... mmmrrrr." He says your name over and over, the pleasure rising in his voice as he fucks you hard. 

The bed shakes with each thrust and you tilt your head back with every moan and gasp he draws out of you. He slides your leg down from his shoulder and lets it wrap around his waist. Beel's hands land on either side of your head as he leans over your, his lips dancing against your neck, sucking your skin between his teeth as if he cannot get enough of you until—

He meets your gaze with frenzied eyes. "I need to finish," he says. 

"I want you to finish in me," you whisper, wrapping your legs tighter around him. 

He arches his back as he cums. "Aaaaaaahhhh, aaah, aahhh!" 

His thrusting slows to a stop as he leans over you, panting in the aftermath. You imagine your face must be as red as his, but you don't care. He collapses next to you on the bed, shoulder to shoulder. You find his hand and lace your fingers with his. 

It doesn't take long before you're shivering, and he pulls you underneath the blanket, holding you against his chest for warmth. The bedsheets smell of him, like they did when you shared this room not so long ago. You bury your face in him and breathe deep, feeling light and drowsy. He murmurs something into your hair as you doze off together, any thought of homework long forgotten. 

Later, you check your D.D.D. to find a string of messages and missed calls from Mammon. 

_Mammon: Are those jalapeno poppers ready yet? I'm starving!_

_You have 1 missed call from Mammon._

_Mammon: Are you okay? I thought I could hear you crying, but you're not in your room?_

_You have 1 missed call from Mammon._

_Mammon: Where are you?_

_You have 1 missed call from Mammon._

_Mammon: Yo, answer your D.D.D._

_You have 1 missed call form Mammon._

_Mammon: I CAN HEAR YOU IN BEEL'S ROOM!_

_Mammon: WHAT ABOUT ME?!_

_Mammon: WILL YOU BOTH SHUT UP?! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR THAT!_

_Mammon: I'm not jealous or anything._

_Mammon: Whatever._

_Mammon: You owe me jalapeno poppers!_

His last message is accompanied by a crying devil-sticker. 

"Oops," you say, looking at the empty plate sitting on the couch.


End file.
